


The Cure

by StarSongVII



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, BoKuroo Week, BoKuroo Week 2020, Fluff and Angst, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28388241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSongVII/pseuds/StarSongVII
Summary: Half a world away looking for a cure for cancer.It's been a long time since he'd been held by those arms.##Dedicated to Fanfiction Hopper (fanfiction_swinger) who alerted me to this community event, and who warmly welcomed me to the BoKuroo fandom while always supporting my fics.Contribution to BoKuroo Week 2020: Day 3: College AU || Long DistancePrompt: "I had a nightmare about you and wanted to make sure you were okay."
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34
Collections: Bokuroo Fics, Bokuroo Week 2020





	The Cure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fanfiction Hopper (fanfiction_swinger)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanfiction_swinger/gifts).



It's been a long time since he's been held by those arms.

But he doesn't exactly have a choice. They're each chasing their own dreams.

He plays volleyball once in a while still - not that often here in Baltimore though - but he knows his boyfriend is just nuts for the game and only went to university as part of pro requirements.

Bokuto had let everyone know that he was the only reason the white haired male had scraped through into Waseda anyway, full scholarship notwithstanding.

That the best volleyball team at university level, and one of the best private universities in Japan - counting seven prime ministers and the likes of Haruki Murakami and the CEO of UNIQLO as alumni - had even considered Bokuto was already an honor in and of itself.

(Kuroo had gotten a full ride to Tōdai, as everyone had expected based on him getting a perfect score on the entrance exam).

Except his brilliance has gotten ahead of him, and now here he is - in Johns Hopkins on a unique transfer program backed by the WHO, bringing in the best chemistry and biomolecular engineering students from around the globe, with the goal of having one successful project at the end of the one year exchange.

And by 'successful', they meant "a cure for cancer that can be commercialized immediately" successful.

The pressure is immense, everyone competing for the privilege of being the one to change the world through science.

It also leaves him barely any time to reply to messages, and no time at all for calls.

Bokuto doesn't stop spamming him anyway, and he feels bad for being unable to respond - always telling himself he'll do it _later_ \- but this is his future on the line.

No one hits on him anymore, everyone obsessed with their own research, but he still wears that silly owl necklace openly anyway.

God, he misses Bokuto.

Those arms, that smile, that carefree laugh.

Those consuming kisses that leave him breathless, those talented fingers that make a mess of him, that thick cock...

_Don't think about it now!_

He's in the middle of an experiment, he needs to stay focused, he needs to win this competition and secure the grant for his research.

But _God_ , he misses Bokuto.

##

It's been hours since the last message from his boyfriend, and this is so unnatural that Kuroo sneaks a quick text while in the bathroom.

He doesn't get to check for a reply though, because the Pfizer advisor wants to go over some data, and later when he thinks he'll get a break for a quick breakfast / lunch / dinner (he only has time for one meal a day most days) the Roche advisor wants to see him.

As usual, it's 5:30am when he finally leaves the labs and tries to sleepwalk back to his apartment.

He's lucky, he knows, that they're considered the elites of university-level chemistry. Each got a comfortable one bedroom near the lab, and honestly it's a lovely apartment but he hasn't been able to spend much time in it anyway.

Weekdays, weekends, holidays...he spends every waking moment in the labs.

Sometimes, when the fatigue and loneliness catch up, when he sees the unread messages and missed calls, when he catches quick glimpses of group pictures on Instagram, he wonders what it's all for.

Throwing volleyball aside, studying like a demon, taking only the most advanced courses, leaving his friends and family and boyfriend behind...

Why does he do this? He could be home, in Tokyo, hanging out with his best friend Kenma, spiking and blocking on the court with his old teammates, cuddling with his boyfriend.

Why did he have to choose this path? He's smart, he can easily get into a great pharmaceutical company on graduation, while having a 'normal' university life in the lead up to it.

But his mother had died of cancer.

He doesn't want any other child to grow up like him, bereft of a parent, seeing the sadness in his father's eyes every Mother's Day or on special dates (like her birthday, and death anniversary, and Valentine's Day, and Christmas, and pretty much every day).

He doesn't want any other child to grow up unable to scream "mommy!" and know that warm arms would appear instantly - loving, protective, a strong shield against the darkness (real and imagined) as soft lips smile affectionately.

So he overdoses on coffee and instant noodles, reheats leftover pizza and kebabs, and some days he goes without any food or sleep but he knows if he keeps this up he'll make a difference to the world.

It's only his own world that's falling apart, after all.

The last few messages from Bokuto had been shorter than usual, less frequent.

There'd been less pictures or videos lately, less attempts at calls from the white haired ace, especially after the beaming man had organized a birthday video call for him - getting all their friends together - and he'd missed it because he'd been too busy with his research that all he'd gotten in the end had been a few group pictures from some of them, and birthday wishes via text.

Was Bokuto tired of him already? Of this distant boyfriend of his who cared more about some prestigious award, some complicated far-fetched research project?

Of Kuroo, who was on the other side of the world and who never bothered to respond, always taking for granted that the other would stay and keep reaching out?

The streets are dark and cold. It's already almost Christmas, and usually he and his friends would be delegating tasks like KFC purchase, champagne purchase, cake purchase.

Usually, he and Bokuto would be wandering the streets of Tokyo hand in hand - and sometimes he intentionally 'forgets' his gloves so that his boyfriend grabs his hand tight and stuffs it in his jacket pocket to keep Kuroo warm.

He's far away from all of them now though, had left right after Christmas last year to make it in time for the program which ran from 2 January to 31 December annually.

He'd missed the initial stages of orientation due to flight delays caused by bad weather, and by the time he'd arrived on campus he'd been considered an 'outsider'.

It brought back memories.

But Bokuto had been there, throughout the homesickness, the feelings of alienation, strength filling him every time the warm voice came through his earphones.

Kenma had messaged, as had Yaku and Kai and Iwaizumi and Oikawa and Sawamura and Sugawara and Ushijima and even Tendou.

His father and grandparents had called and left voice mails whenever he couldn't answer, they'd sent care package after care package, and sometimes his old teammates and juniors from high school included items in the boxes - silly things, inside jokes, snacks he liked, random stuff that he thinks maybe they got for free and couldn't figure out how to dispose of.

But it's been almost a year, and his research is nowhere near complete. He won't make it in time - the deadline for final submissions is in five days, he's behind on his experiments and his data doesn't sync with his (much revised) hypothesis - and his mind is so foggy he can't even unlock his apartment door.

It opens anyway, from the inside.

Kuroo thinks he's delirious, that maybe he's hallucinating from exhaustion.

Because one very handsome Bokuto Koutarou is standing before him, beaming broadly even at almost six in the morning on a cold winter's day.

He probably blinks before he's pulled into that familiar embrace, he's not sure.

The smell overwhelms him, the solid chest and strong arms make the world suddenly bright and grounded and beautiful and warm.

He's missed this so much, he doesn't care if he's hallucinating, if Bokuto isn't really here in this cold, competitive world that is the race to a world-changing cure, a breakthrough in contemporary chemistry that would eradicate disease or famine or pestilence or pollution.

He just cries into those broad shoulders, gripping like his life depends on it, because he'd been so lonely, he was so sorry for being so distant physically and emotionally and he just missed Bokuto _so damn much it hurt_.

Large, warm hands stroke his hair and back as a rich chuckle fills his ears. He can't really hear what the other is saying and it makes him panic - _is Bokuto not really here, is this just a dream?_ \- and he clings even harder and sobs even louder though its muffled by those incredible muscles.

When he gets his bearings again, he's seated on a hard lap, and soft kisses pepper his forehead and cheeks as someone hums a familiar tune.

Then he smells Bokuto and grilled mackerel, and he peers up through tear-sodden eyelashes at a brilliant smile that widens when their eyes meet.

"Hey, beautiful."

_Bokuto_.

_He's here. He's really here._

And with that thought, Kuroo launches himself at the other, smashing their lips together too hard but he doesn't care right now, because Bokuto is here, his boyfriend is here and holding him and _Bokuto is here_.

They make out until he gets dizzy - it's been awhile since he'd slept - and then the taller male is feeding him forkfuls of his favorite food, and sweet nothings are constantly being nuzzled into his hair (he thinks he'd showered yesterday, or maybe it was the day before), and then he's being tucked into bed and he still won't let go of those strong shoulders that make everything better.

He doesn't want to wake up alone in a cold bed, in a cold apartment in a cold city, half a world away from his sun and stars.

He tries his best to stay awake, to be present and appreciate this moment, but he's exhausted, and those hums vibrate through a broad chest into his soul as those hands caress him into slumber.

##

He wakes up alone and can't stop the tears in time.

It was all a dream.

Curling in on himself, his hands reach out blindly for pillows - reverting to when he'd been a child and had relied on them to block out the dark thoughts of not having a mother.

Except one of the pillows he grabs is a bit warm.

And there's footsteps now, getting louder, then someone is grabbing him and lifting him up against a broad chest as a familiar voice apologizes for leaving his side but Bokuto had _really wanted to get breakfast ready in time_.

_Bokuto_.

Screw morning breath. Screw the lab timetable, the scholarship, the research grant and prestige and potential Nobel Prize riding on the line.

His boyfriend is here.

They don't have sex, just cuddles and kisses and sobbed apologies from Kuroo and hushed whispers of comfort from Bokuto, until both their stomachs are rowdy as hell and he's being carried to the bathroom.

Those tender touches gently wash away his accumulated stress and fatigue, brushing the darkness away easily as he's coddled and bathed and dried, then they're back on the sofa and Bokuto is feeding him now-cold scrambled eggs and pancakes and it's the best meal Kuroo has had in almost a year.

When at last he can think clearly, he asks the other what he's doing here, in Baltimore, in his apartment right before Christmas.

"I had a nightmare about you and wanted to make sure you were okay."

This stupid owl had flown halfway across the world just because of that?

The white haired male just beams at him when he blurts out the question.

"Why not?"

And really, when Bokuto says it like that, when Bokuto smiles at him like that, Kuroo realizes it's just that simple and he laughs - the first laugh in almost a year that's ripped from him because he can't help it.

He loves Bokuto, and Bokuto loves him.

##

It might be the coldest February on record, but Kuroo doesn't care.

He's waiting outside Waseda's gates, and maybe some people are staring at this tall, lanky male gripping a bright yellow paper bag tight against his chest but he doesn't care.

He hears Bokuto long before he sees him, that infectious booming laugh making the world so much brighter, and then suddenly brilliant golden eyes are locked on his and he can barely blink before he's swept up in a tight hug - he manages to hold the bag away in time - and then they're kissing in full view of everyone on the All Japan Intercollegiate Volleyball Championship victors but he doesn't give a rat's ass right now.

Bokuto loves the chocolates he'd made, of course, and takes tons of pictures and posts nonstop together with lovey-dovey shots of the two of them celebrating Valentine's Day together.

They get a few snarky comments from their friends, but he knows everyone's happy for them, and glad he's home, because more than sixty volleyball players and university students had turned up at Narita when he'd arrived in January, waving banners and screaming his name and throwing so much confetti they'd gotten warnings from Narita's administrative, security, and maintenance teams.

It's good to be home, walking familiar streets again, holding that familiar hand again, going to their favorite cafes and izakayas again.

He's crashing at Bokuto's while he waits to move in with the student-athlete properly the coming school year, but really he doesn't mind the cozy little one bedroom that his boyfriend had been placed in.

It can barely accommodate the queen sized bed but that just means they have to stick close to each other.

The kitchen is tiny, but that just means leaning against each other while they cook, or Kuroo clinging to a strong back blearily in the mornings - he likes the way Bokuto smells even post-morning run - as the broad male makes them a quick breakfast before he has to rush off for training and classes.

The sofa isn't long enough for him to stretch out on, so he just lets his legs dangle over the side as he lays his head on that warm lap and gentle fingers stroke his hair absentmindedly as they watch some show or other on Netflix.

When their friends come over, they all have to sit on the floor but there's a much beloved _kotatsu_ to keep them toasty as they eat and drink and chat and joke the way they always had.

In March, before the new semester starts, once Kuroo and Bokuto move into a large 5LDK together with Iwaizumi and Oikawa, as well as Ushijima and Tendou, and Sawamura and Sugawara (the last bedroom is kept open for any visiting friends), they all gather in front of the phone and wait breathlessly.

Kuroo pretends not to care, but he knows he's not fooling anyone given he's downing beers and Patrón XO café shots like there's no tomorrow.

At long last, the phone rings, and everyone is silent - Oikawa has his hands over his mouth and appears to be turning ever more purple - as Kuroo answers.

Then the noise is deafening, and neighbors are banging on the walls and door but then the entire building breaks out into impromptu celebration when they realize why the eight huge boys are so raucous.

Kuroo had done it. He'd created the cure.

And he had Bokuto - his cure for everything - to thank for it all.

_I love you, Bokuto Koutarou._


End file.
